Fade In

by Mabie, M.

  Kurt laughs and I feel sick. My stomach knots, and I don't know what to do. I don't know where to go. But I do know one thing and that is that Ray looks like he's going to beat the shit out of Kurt.

  “Let her arm go. Now!” Ray approaches Kurt and doesn't look like he's going to stop. He might plow over him. Ray is a huge dude, and he's much thicker than Kurt. Right now I'd say Kurt is in deep shit. I'm just thankful that Ray's here.

  “I'll let her go. I'll sure as fuck let her go! She's a fucking bitch and you can have her.”

  That's all Kurt gets out before Ray's hand is around his throat. Kurt struggles for a second and then realizes he isn't going to win this fight.

  “Ms. Elliott, do you want call security or the police? I think you should,” Ray says so calmly while holding Kurt's neck in his grip. Kurt's face is now bright red, and I'm sure he's going to pass out soon if Ray doesn't let go.

  “Ray, you're going to kill him. He can't breathe.” I'm not so much worried about Kurt as I am Ray. I don't need this guy going to jail. We've only just had our first full conversation. And right now he is pretty much my favorite person to speak of.

  “No, he'll pass out first. Police?” Ray's expression says, “Make the call.”

  I don't know what to do. I don't want Kurt bothering me, but I don't want him to go to jail. Maybe this will scare him off.

  Then I think, Fuck him, and dial 911.

  After I tell the dispatch lady what my emergency is—and that it’s currently not really an emergency anymore thanks to Ray—she tells me that a squad car is on the way and that if we can hold him there until the police show up they'll take care of it.

  Seconds later, the building's security guards bail out of the elevators and come straight for Ray and Kurt. Ray must have let up some, because Kurt is still conscious.

  “Ms. Elliott, are you all right? We just got back to the watch room when we saw the end of this,” says a security man I recognize but don't know by name.

  “Yeah, I think I'm fine. He just grabbed my arm. Ray, my driver, saw what was happening and came in.” By the time I get the words out, the other two officers have Kurt on the ground and handcuffed.

  “We'll give the police a copy of the video. We got everything.”

  “Is he going to jail?” Why is that my concern? It isn't, I guess. But for some reason, I feel awful anyway. What happened to make him so crazy?

  Is he drunk? He didn't smell drunk.

  “Probably. At least for questioning. You'll have to ask the police officers. They might want you to go down to the station, too.”

  This sucks. I just wanted to go home and call my hot personal assistant, and now I've been manhandled, verbally assaulted, and a witness to a near death by choking. And I have to go down to the motherfucking police station?

  Bullshit. Complete bullshit.

  Thankfully, the police take my statement right there in the lobby after they put Kurt in a cop car. Turns out that he is going to jail whether I like it or not. The tape looks like an attempted robbery, and even if I dispute it, they maintain that he was trying to take my phone and he got physical.

  Way to fuck yourself, Kurt. You did this one all by yourself.

  Ray gets his own line of questioning and is released on the spot. Apparently, he comes from a family of cops and they pretty much thank him for stepping in when he did.

  On the way home, Ray insists that I sit up front instead of way in the back by myself. I do, and it's kind of nice. We talk for the twenty minutes it takes for us to get across town in the night traffic. Ray is divorced with two little boys. They're cute. He shows me pictures, and they both look like little versions of him.

  When we reach my building, he asks me again if I'm okay, and I tell him again that I am. I'm also hoping that it's true. I mean, I wasn't really hurt. It all happened so fast. What's really bothering me are the things that Kurt said.

  He was so callous. He was trying to hurt me, and unfortunately, he did.

  It is after ten thirty when I finally walk through my door and I go straight for the shower. After taking my shirt off, I notice the mark that Kurt's grip left on my arm. Charming. That will look great with the pretty dress I was planning on wearing to Winnie and Cooper's couples shower.

  On my second date with Ben.

  I want to talk to him. I shower fast. Breakneck speed.

  It's lovely that I'm so used to my bathroom that I don't have to worry about bumping and knocking into things in there. That's when you're most vulnerable, and naked and klutzy don't mix well. Trust me.

  After drying off, I don a long t-shirt, hop into bed, and dial Ben. He picks up on the first ring.

  “God, Tatum, are you all right? Ray said Kurt is in jail. How's your arm? Why didn't you call?” He's almost frantic. His voice was loud, and it startled me at first.

  “Shhh. I'm fine. I'm fine. Calm down. I just got home and out of the shower. Ray was there and I'm okay. I swear.” I try to sound soothing, but I nearly fail. Something about how desperate Ben sounds… He almost sounds injured himself.

  “Are you really okay? Did he hurt you? Ah! I wish I were there with you.” He's upset, and I can't bear to hear one more person yell.

  “Stop. Please. Just don't yell.” I hear my voice crack and take a breath to tamp down the emotions that waited until now to surface. “I'm fine. Can you please just talk to me? Please. Let's talk about something else. We'll talk about this later. Okay? Please?”

  “Okay, I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you. I didn't mean to shout, baby.” His voice is instantly more gentle. It's the second time he's called me that, but it’s the first time I let it sink all the way in.

  There is something that is so singularly romantic about a man calling you baby that it makes all of the shitty things of the day a little less shitty. It's nurturing and gentle. It's exactly what I need to hear.

  Considering that he told me that he likes it when I call him Benny, I think maybe I should tell him that I like it when he calls me baby. Isn't turnabout fair play?

  “I like it when you call me that.” My voice sounds a little small, but it's hard for me to say stuff like this. Vulnerability isn't my forte.

  “Baby?” he asks.

  “Yeah. Maybe not all the time, but sometimes it's nice.” His simple honesty is contagious, it seems.

  “I like it when you tell me what you like.” His voice has tamed and returned to the calming sound that soothes me.

  “All right. I liked it this morning when you held my hand and rubbed it with your thumb. I thought that was only in romance novels.”

  “Really? That's easy. What else?” he cajoles.

  Now this is how I wanted my day to end. This is what I craved. Just simple conversation. Me and Ben talking.

  “I don't know. You tell me one.”

  “I like it when you lick cream cheese off of your lips. Gets me every time.” I remember this voice. This is the voice I was talking to the first night on the phone. This voice could convince me to do anything.

  “I liked when your shirt rode up your belly at the diner and I could see your happy trail. A lot.” I giggle, and he laughs with me.

  “Mmmm, feel free to lift my shirt any time. I like the way your skin feels under my hands. It's the smoothest thing I've ever felt.”

  “I like that one, too.”

  We fall silent for a while with that thought, and I'm pretty sure that the both of us are deciding how far we really want to take this. Then my phone beeps in my ear. I flip it in front of me and see that it's my brother.

  “Hey, Benny?”

  “Yes.” Chuckling, he adds, “Yes to anything.”

  “My brother is on the other line. I hate to let you go, but he's probably heard what happened and is worried. I need to go.” I don't want to rush him, and I know that Cooper will call back as soon as it goes to voicemail because he's a madman who hates leaving a message, but I do it anyway.

  “That's fine. I'm glad you called me and I'm glad you told me those
things. Sleep well, okay? If you need anything just call me, all right?”

  He really does care about me.

  “I will. I'll see you in a few days. We have a date on Saturday.”

  “I might come back early tomorrow if I can. I'll let you know. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight.”

  I quickly switch the call over to Cooper’s third consecutive call in a row.

  “Cooper, I'm fine. Ray, my driver, was there. I'm all right.” I state very matter –of-factly, not wanting him to know if I'm upset or not. Hell if I even know right now.

  “What did that motherfucker do, Tatum? I've been pretty cool about that douchebag, and now I'm ready to beat his ass. What happened?” Panic and fury color his voice.

  “What is with guys yelling tonight? Take it down a notch, capisce?” I draw a long breath in an attempt to give the cliff's notes in one fell swoop. “Kurt was downstairs when I came down with Neil. Neil went home because I’d told him it was okay. Kurt's never been aggressive or anything like that with me ever, Cooper. I would have told you if he was. I wasn't expecting him to get so angry. I told him I was going home to meet someone and he got mad and said a bunch of stuff and called me some names. Ray texted me from out front when he saw what was going on. Kurt thought that it was Ben—or as he calls him, that guy—and tried to grab for my phone. Ray came in about the time that Kurt grabbed my arm. Blah, blah, blah. Ray choked him. Kurt went to jail and I came home. That's it.” Well, I almost got it out in one breath.

  “What an ass. What did they arrest him for?”

  “Well, the security cameras showed him trying to get my phone, so they charged him with attempted robbery and assault. But, Cooper, I'm fine. He only grabbed my arm.”

  I can hear his angry huffs of breath and I know he's livid.

  “Did you press charges?”

  “I called the police and it doesn't really seem like it matters whether I do or not. It's all on tape. So he pretty much fucked himself.”

  “I'm calling the police station in the morning. If that prick makes bail—and he will—we're going to have a talk. Did you tell your door guy?”

  “Oh. No. I should do that though. I'll call down there when I hang up. I doubt he will come over, but I should tell them that he's not welcome here.”

  I don't want him to come back. He acted so strange.

  After I hear him finish repeating the story to Winnie, I say, “Cooper, he went nuts.” Every time I rehash the story, his venomous words somehow cut just a little deeper. “He said some stuff that was really mean. Just really, really mean. Ugh. That's probably the worst of it. How did you find out?” I ask, figuring it was Tilly and Luis, since I saw them coming out when I was talking to the cops.

  “Luis called Winnie to see if you were okay. Why didn't you call us? We could have come right back there. Shit. If Ray hadn’t been there, what would have happened, Tate?” He sounds so sad. My poor big brother.

  “The security guys were coming down to help. They saw it on the cameras. I would have been fine.”

  “I need to tip your driver. What's his name again?”

  “It's Ray, and shut up. I thanked him, and I'll be the one to give him an appreciation gift. Not you. Got that?” I should get Ray something. He didn't have to do any of that. I really am lucky he was there.

  “What did Ben say?” inquires Snoopy Coopie.

  “He was pretty angry about it. He had to go out of town for a few days, so he feels a little bad that he wasn't here to help. Even though he may not have even gone to the taping. Who knows?”

  “Hey, I get it. You and Winnie are my girls. I don't want anyone messing with you guys. I bet he'll be having words with ol’ Kurt soon, too.”

  “I doubt that. There is no point in that. I don't want Ben—or you—getting him all riled up. I don't ever want to see him again. Ever.”

  His words hit my memory again. “Are you so Goddamned blind you can't tell who you’re fucking anymore?”

  The worst part is that I haven't been fucking anyone! And I really could use a good pounding.

  “Well, don't worry about that. I think you should get an order of protection. He's already gotten physical the last two times he's been around. There's no need to have a third time.” He demands, “Say you will.”

  “I will.” And I honestly do agree. I don't want that psycho anywhere near me. “Cooper, I'm tired. I'm going to bed. Want to have lunch with me and Winnie tomorrow?”

  “Yeah. I'll come up and get you guys about eleven. Call me if you need me. I love you.”

  “I love you, too. Goodnight.”

  I switch the light off and roll over, thinking about everything. The sting from what Kurt said replays over and over in my head. I have to know if he was right.

  Grabbing my phone again, I texted Ben.

  Me: Are you still up?

  A few seconds later, he replies.

  Ben: Yeah. Talk to Cooper?

  Me: Yeah, he's pissed. Hey do you think we should wait a while?

  Ben: For what?

  Me: For this. Dating? I mean, Kurt and I did just break up.

  Ben: I don't, but you have to feel like it's right. I'm not going to pressure you for anything.

  Me: I know. I'm just thinking.

  Ben: If it's about something that jackass said, then stop. He's wrong.

  Me: I know.

  Ben: No, you don't. You're letting his crazy shit get to you. Don't. Now if you feel like it's too soon, then we're good. I told you. I'm patient. If this happens, then it's at your speed.

  Me: Okay. Let's take our time.

  Ben: I've got time.

  Me: I've got time, too.

  Ben: You're thinking too much. Go to bed, baby.

  Me: Too soon.

  Ben: Ha. You like it.

  Me: Guilty. Goodnight.

  Ben: Goodnight, who?

  Me: Goodnight, Benny.

  Ben: That's right. I'll call you in the morning.

  Me: Good.

  I really like him.

  Turns out that I didn't have to worry about Kurt coming to my condo. After I got off of the phone with Ben last night, he called Phil to make sure it was known to the building manager that he wasn't allowed on the property. Besides that, Cooper paid Kurt a visit this morning after he'd learned that he’d been released sometime in the night.

  I didn't ask all of the details, but I'm no fool. I know my brother, and I'm certain that he threatened him within an inch of his life. Cooper only told me that he's sure that they, and I quote, “got some things straight.”

  This morning sucks. My coffee doesn't taste as good when he makes it. I'm hungry and I didn't allow myself enough time for breakfast. My hair is weird and I'm...off.

  It's probably just all of the turmoil from the day before getting to me and that I'm pretty anxious about party. I know for a fact it'll go well, but I want Cooper and Winnie to have the best time.

  It's their wedding shower. Sure, it’ll be a bit unorthodox in terms of showers, but it suits them. Cocktails and eveningwear definitely suit by best friend. And if she's happy, he's happy. They'll love it. I hope.

  As I ride to work in the front seat—again—with Ray, I'm determined to get something that has been pacing through my mind figured out.

  “Hey, Ray?” I begin. We don't talk much. Sure, last night altered our professional relationship a bit, but it isn't like we're going to paint each other's toenails or wax poetic about our favorite hotties. He's my driver.

  He doesn't speak, only looking in my direction as he slows to the red light ahead.

  “Why did you call my personal assistant last night and tell him what happened?” I didn't want to offer much information, but I'm sure he sees us. He knows that we're, umm...whatever we are. He must have seen our goodbye yesterday morning.

  “Ben asked me to call him if anything happened or if your safety was a concern.”

  That's sweet, but it is also a little fucked up. I'm their boss.

  I n
eed to think that through and let it sink in.

  By the time we pull up to ABN, I have scripted and re-scripted exactly how and what I want to say. That's a writer’s occupational hazard for sure. Typically, my mouth just barks out any old thing it wants to, but when it counts, I analyze the shit out of myself.

  As we come to a complete stop, I stay put, not reaching for the door or my bag. I want him to see that this is important.

  “Ray, first, I appreciate everything you did last night. It was above and beyond your responsibilities as my driver. Thank you. I'd like you to pick a few ball games to take your boys to this summer, or whatever you like, and let me know the dates. My treat.” I give a sincerely grateful smile.

  “Ms. Elliott, you don't have to do that—”

  I interrupt and my hand deflects his rebuttal. “I'm not finished.” I turn so that we are face to face. “Ben is my employee, like you are. He also has gone above and beyond his duties, and for that, I am grateful and very happy to have him. That said, you work for me. I pay you to be discreet, punctual, and a good driver. I pay him to discreetly assist me with errands, schedulings, and things of that nature. Am I making sense?”

  The rock of a man clears his throat and stutters a little confirming, “I-I think so.” His posture loosens like I've really hit home.

  I state firmly, “If it doesn't have to do with scheduling your services, I don't really see the need for you two to be chatting about my personal life. Ben is wonderful and so are you. I can't really stop you two from becoming friends or whatever the hell guys do. You've been easy to work with, and I'd love for our working partnership to continue. But I want to remind you—you work for me. And my privacy is something I take seriously. If you're calling Ben this time, maybe you'll call someone else next time. I don't think that is what this situation is about and I don't think you meant any harm. Just please let me be the one to tell other people whom I socialize or work with my business.”

  I know how cold I sound. But truly, it rubs me the wrong way to know that Ben somehow gave him orders to call him, like Ray is some sort of fill-in keeper.